


blackbird

by alexander_adele



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has Nightmares (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Post-the-Apocalypse-that-Never-Was, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Song: Blackbird (The Beatles), Tags Are Hard, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, guys this is just soft, i've never done this, idk what else to say, post-armageddidn't, preening, yes like birds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexander_adele/pseuds/alexander_adele
Summary: In which Crowley tells Aziraphale about the Fall for the first time, resulting in a plethora of feelings and an angel singing to his beloved demon.feat. a beatles song
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 61





	blackbird

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever fic, and I really hope y'all enjoy it! super fluffy and self indulgent, and based off of one of my favorite comfort songs- Blackbird by the Beatles. DEFINITELY go listen to it before reading, it's positively lovely.
> 
> also, hi! my name is alex adele, and you can find me on @IneffableAlex on twitter :)

“When was that guy around?” babbled an endearingly drunk demon nestled comfortably in the lap of a principality. “1600s?”

“Oh, the 14th century I believe. He was _quite_ the-”

Crowley groaned. “God- Sat- oh, _Someone_ , the 14th century was the worst.”

“Yes, darling, I know how you feel, but the _literature_ , at the very least-”

“Oh, _c’monnnnnn_ ,” Crowley protested, slurring his words heavily at that point. “I’d rather _Fall_ again than go back to the 14th century,” he mumbled, a hiccup punctuating the end of his sentence.

The fingers that had been softly playing with his auburn hair faltered as his husband took in his comment. “I- surely you don’t mean-” Aziraphale began, stuttering. He shifted uncomfortably, jolting the demon in his lap out of his thoughts in the process.

Crowley immediately regretted his words, a feeling that was accompanied by an overwhelming desire to reassure his angel. _Shit shit shit shit- what did I say? What made him go all quiet?_

Oh. “I- nah, it’s just hyperbole, angel.”

“Ah. Yes, of course. My mistake,” Aziraphale responded, feigning contentment, putting on a fake smile that he usually saved for prospective customers- _Not_ Crowley, who frowned in response.

“ ‘Zira, surely we can discuss this if you’re… bothered,” he turned around to face him. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he added, golden eyes wide and scanning his lover’s face, his voice quieter and more gentle than should be possible for a demon. Aziraphale, of course, knew better.

“Oh, darling- I. I’m not upset, dear boy. I was just-” Aziraphale faltered. “Surprised at your choice of hyperbole. I know-” he paused, considering his words. “I know how traumatic it was, dear. I was just- surprised.”

As far as Crowley could remember, they had never talked about the Fall. The event itself was never discussed as more than a passing reminder between the two: that Crowley was “Fallen,” language that had long since been abandoned by Aziraphale and for which he had apologized profusely since the Armageddon-that-never-was. But they had never… talked about it.

“I- How did you-?”

“Nightmares,” Aziraphale said, swallowing, and refusing to meet Crowley’s gaze. “You have… nightmares.”

 _Shit_.

“I thought-” Crowley began, but he quickly realized he didn’t know how to continue. He knew he had been having nightmares. To deny that would be a lie, and a fruitless one, since evidently Aziraphale already knew. In the past, he’d woken up from them. Usually, the scene wasn’t pretty. But since Armageddidn’t (and well, since he and Aziraphale had started sharing a bed, among other things) he hadn’t woken up from one. He figured they had gone unnoticed by his partner, but clearly he had been mistaken. His mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say next. _How had he known?_

“You talk in your sleep,” Aziraphale said, answering the unasked question. Crowley didn’t respond, so he continued. “Sometimes it’s pleading with… _Her_... apologizing and begging and the like,” Aziraphale continued, still unable to meet his eyes. “But then sometimes it’s just... _my_ name,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t know, but-”

“The bookshop,” Crowley interrupted. “I- that’s the bookshop bit. The dreams- er, _nightmares_ \- always start with the Fall. Then the flames shift into the bookshop. Burning, and on fire, and without _you_ , like when I found it that day. And then-” he swallowed. “And then they become the hellfire from your execution, Aziraphale. Except we _hadn’t_ switched, and it was _you_ walking into the flames and not me and I had to _watch_ and I couldn't do anything- and I- and-”

And suddenly Crowley was crying, and the only thing he was aware of was that he was being held by the only being who mattered to him. A wave of gratitude and relief that both of them were safe and together caused the tears to flow faster.

When his sobs finally started to calm down, he slowly became more aware of the hand rubbing soothing circles on his back, and the quiet reassurances his angel was murmuring to him. _“It’s alright my love- you’re alright, I’m here darling. I’ve got you, we’re safe, we’re together my dear.”_

Crowley sniffled into Aziraphale’s shirt. “Sorry if I’ve ever- y’know, woken you up.”

Aziraphale laughed softly, placing a kiss on top of Crowley’s head. “My dear, you know I scarcely sleep anyways. Besides, I’m more than content to hold you and reassure you through any nightmare you have.” Aziraphale’s face softened, looking more thoughtful before continuing, “I wish you didn’t have to go through so much pain. But I’m here for you, love. I always will be, my dear.”

“It- I- the Fall, that is-” Crowley hated that he couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice. “I’m not sure how much you know, but it- it was terrible.” Aziraphale hadn’t stopped rubbing soothing circles on his back, and Crowley was thankful for the motion grounding him.

“My dear, I’m willing to listen of course… but please, you don’t have to if-”

“I want to.” Crowley said shakily, and Aziraphale nodded. “I- ngk. well, I ‘spose we should sober up a bit first.” Aziraphale nodded again, and within a matter of seconds the wine they had drunk was returned to its bottles, and the two were sufficiently sober for the conversation that lay ahead.

“Um… ‘lright then.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands in his, and waited for him to begin. “The _Fall_. Firstly- fell for asking questions. Unfair if you ask me. Which, of course, _She_ didn’t. She didn’t ask and she certainly wouldn’t listen.” Crowley hesitated, and Aziraphale squeezed his hands lightly, encouraging him to continue.

“Happened fast, but the pain lingered for ages. A free-fall into a pool of burning sulfur. You know, obviously, the colour of my wings changed, but… all the old, holy feathers burnt off first. The black ones grew in their place. Also…” Crowley hesitated, anxious about Aziraphale’s potential reaction to the next bit, “...both my wings were broken. Badly.” Aziraphale’s eyes widened and though he looked horrified, he said nothing. “Hurt like- well, hurt like hell. Took ages to heal.”

“My eyes… well they had always been golden. Mom- uh, _She_ used to say they were made of stardust. That it was why I was the best starmaker… but, regardless, they were burnt in the sulfur. Healed quicker than the wings, but they were still changed. Like the rest of me. First time I saw my reflection, I cried. Weeped. I cursed her for abandoning me, knew she wasn’t listening and didn’t care, but… I still felt, deep down, that it was my fault. Couldn’t escape that bit, that _guilt.”_

“Of course, the wings were easiest to hide. Was so relieved when the human invented glasses. Could avoid the stares and even looking at ‘em _myself_ as much as I wanted,” Crowley admitted.

“But- still?” Aziraphale asked, interrupting for the first time during Crowley’s story. Crowley looked up and blue eyes met gold. All the angel could manage to say in clarification was “I mean- surely you don’t- do you _still_ feel that way about your eyes?”

“I mean,” Crowley began, unsure where this was headed, “generally speaking… yeah.”

“Oh.” _‘Oh?,’_ Aziraphale thought. _Please dear boy, get yourself TOGETHER you foolish principality. Just- just TELL him-_ “I think your eyes are beautiful, dear. Your wings as well,” he added, before he could stop himself.

It was Crowley’s turn for his eyes to widen (and his pupils to dilate) in surprise. Not for the first time, his angel had rendered him speechless.

“I understand they may be uncomfortable reminders, but- well, I’m thankful you’re here with me. Now, as you are. I wouldn’t trade this, trade you for anything, dear. I’m ever so thankful we met on the wall of Eden and- well, if I had truly voiced what I had been thinking… you looked rather dashing, dear. _Temptation Incarnate_ , one could even say. No wonder Eve was inclined to trust you- you, my dear, were quite charming.”

Aziraphale had turned pink by the end of his rambling confession, and was looking at Crowley with so much fondness that the demon thought he might discorporate. Instead of saying so, he simply replied, “Ngk.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed, abruptly letting go of Crowley’s hands in favor of clasping his together in front of him, as he tended to do when he was struck with excitement at an idea. “My dear,” he began, his eyes practically twinkling, even in the dim light of the bookshop’s backroom. “When was the last time you… preened?”

“I- what?” Crowley asked, taken aback by the question. “Not in a long time, angel…” he admitted, feeling slightly ashamed. _Of course_ Aziraphale would be one to preen regularly. Though he was often decades behind in fashion, he took pride in his appearance, as dated as it might be.

“Oh, not to worry at all, dear. I know you’re busy and understand your… hesitation, as it were,” Aziraphale said gently. “If you’re not opposed… may I?”

Crowley looked in Aziraphale’s eyes- the eyes of his friend of 6000 years, the eyes of his partner, his lover, the eyes of the being he trusted most in the universe- and he nodded.

He focused on finding the feeling of his wings in the plane they usually rested in, and then on bringing them into the one he and Aziraphale were in. He felt a slight tug and a soft release, and they had dutifully appeared, naturally stretching out in the room’s space. He felt slightly dizzy.

Following Aziraphale’s directions - mostly wordless guidance, with a few one-word requests, “sit” or “turn” - he was soon sitting cross-legged on the floor of the bookshop, with Aziraphale sitting close behind him.

Wings are incredibly sensitive, but Aziraphale knew that, and he worked as gently and thoroughly as possible. Though Crowley had lost his ability to “sense” love (at least in the technical sense, it was gifted only to angels) during the Fall, he still knew what love felt like. Aziraphale had always made sure of that.

As his fingers were working their way through Crowley’s scapular feathers, Aziraphale began humming. Crowley tried to place the tune but found he couldn’t.

“It’s not quite bebop-” Crowley groaned at both the reference and Aziraphale’s uncanny ability to know the question on the tip of his tongue, “but it’s a song I think is rather… well, fitting.”

And then, Aziraphale began to sing. Crowley was stunned, trying to rack his brain for the last time he’d heard Aziraphale sing. His voice was beautiful- not quite plucked from a stereotypical “angel’s chorus” as one might assume. But his voice was purely and beautifully _Aziraphale_. And in this moment, it was meant only for the ears of one demon, who was so lost in thought he hadn’t been listening to what his angel had been singing.

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise”_

Oh. While he was sure this wasn’t a song Aziraphale had written himself (he must’ve heard it somewhere before), he knew he was singing to him- _about him._

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these golden eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free”_

He _had_ learned to see- bit by bit on his own at first, but he’d learned to see so much more alongside Aziraphale. He’d seen he could be loved. He’d seen that he could be _free_. That _they_ could be free, together.

In this moment, not for the first time nor the last, he revelled in the feeling that they finally were.

_“Blackbird fly, blackbird fly_

_Into the light of a dark black night_

_Blackbird fly, blackbird fly_

_Into the light of a dark black night”_

_Only with you_ , Crowley thought, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes for the second time that night. _Only if I’m flying with you._

_“Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise”_

Crowley felt Aziraphale’s hands smooth out his wings, finished and content with his work, but still singing. Crowley stretched his wings, folded them, and turned to face his angel. He was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his face, but had decided he couldn’t care less.

_“You were only waiting for this moment to arise”_

When Crowley turned, he saw that Aziraphale had tears silently spilling down his face as well. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the look of love on his angel’s face. Crowley allowed himself to be gathered into Aziraphale’s arms as the angel softly sung the last line, the weight of it’s truth settling on both of them as he sang

_“We were only waiting for this moment to arise.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to my friend TJ for encouraging me to write!! and to elena and seb, for reading it over before I posted it :)


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